Eyelids
beginning to lower for the third time in less than a minute, Diana
shook her head in vain and let out a long yawn. She blinked wearily
at the dozen hi-def screens in front of her and stared blankly at the
monitor focused on Wayne Tower.

It
stared back at her equally nonplussed.

Perhaps
you should call it a day, Diana.

She
flinched guiltily at J'onn's gentle suggestion and spun her chair
away from the monitoring station that had consumed so much of her
time these past several days. Various live feeds from Gotham
continued to cycle throughout the city, keeping it under constant
surveillance. The Amazon princess watched her friend gradually
descend from the command post and offered him a humorless smile.

"I
can't, J'onn. Tim Drake is still missing. It's been almost
three weeks, and we still don't---"

"Diana,"
The Martian Manhunter interrupted firmly, "If you keep this up,
I will have to remove you from active status. You need some rest
before it impacts your readiness for League operations."

"You
wouldn't!"

The
Martian's crimson eyes revealed nothing. He simply continued to look
at her impassively.

"You
would,"
She
accused him.

"Diana,
please. As a founding member, you are expected to set an example for
the others," He began counting on his fingers, "Clark
cannot be here all the time. John is on sabbatical with the Corp.
Arthur is now a reservist due to his Atlantean responsibilities.
Bruce is becoming more and more reclusive. Shayera intimidates the
rank and file, when she is not simply bellowing at them. She almost
brought Booster Gold to tears this morning."

Diana
laughed.

J'onn
paused, and then grew an additional finger, "And Wally, well
Wally is not the mentoring type."

He
gestured toward the various screens, "You had no sleep in almost
three days. Would you truly expect me to ignore that and possibly
endanger the success of a mission?"

As
she began protest, J'onn cut her off and continued.

"After
the fiasco with Cadmus, we all voted to overhaul our procedures and
regulations. As you humans say, run a tight ship. Mandatory rest
after 36 hours. No exceptions. You voted in favor of it along with
the rest of the founders." The Martian grinned, "Or did you
forget?"

Diana
shot him a dirty look and opened her mouth to mount a
counteroffensive.

She
closed it a few seconds later when she realized there was no way to
refute his logic.

Then
she sighed and shook her head in surrender. "You're right, of
course. I'm sorry."

She
turned her chair back to the monitors for one final look before
standing up.

"It's
just that he asked for my help. He never
does that anymore."

She
took a few steps over to one of the viewing ports and looked down at
the emerald-blue orb slowly turning hundreds of miles below. She
spent the next several minutes absorbing the planetary vista while
lost in thought.

"Can
you imagine how scared Bruce must be in order for him to do that?"
Diana finally said.

J'onn
nodded, joining her at the reinforced window.

"Bruce
has always kept the League at arm's length. Of all of us, only you
and Clark have truly managed to know the man underneath the cowl,"
he put a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder, "And with
this matter, he came to you. That is no small thing in itself. In
fact, I would consider it an honor."

Diana
smiled wanly, "I just want to help him, that's all."

She
squeezed his hand and walked away towards her quarters.

J'onn
watched the Amazon leave and then sat down in front of the monitors.

"As
do I," he whispered.

---

The
leopard seals roared in frustration as bodies fell everywhere except
where they could reach them. The carnivores thrashed fervently
through the frigid water, hauling themselves up upon chunks of ice in
vain attempts to get closer to potential prey.

As
Batgirl finally took down the last of Penguin's skanky bodyguards,
she glanced downward into the large exhibit that dominated
Cobblepot's nightclub. For a mere front, he had certainly spent
enough coin on the decor. And she would know, having experienced
Penguin's over-sized fish tank from pretty much every vantage point
over the years.

"Whew!"
She panted to herself, resting against the display's railing for a
few seconds, "That took way too long."

Barbara
instinctively vaulted to the top of the railing and dove to the side
as gunfire echoed throughout the club's cavernous dining chamber.

Her
ears were still ringing as she took refuge behind an overturned
table.

Which
was perforated an instant later like so much Swiss cheese.

Fortunately,
Barbara was now two tables over and still moving.

"Stand
still, blast you!" Penguin roared as he attempted to draw a bead
on her with his umbrella gun.

"I
don't think so, Oswald!" she shouted with more bravado than she
felt.

How
much ammo can that thing possible hold?

Barbara
dove for a nearby banquet table and disappeared below its ornate
tablecloth. She scrambled underneath it for several precious seconds
as the beautiful lace behind her was shredded into Gotham's most
expensive tissue paper. She felt her short cape take a few shots
before she somehow managed to reach a support column and get behind
it.

She
prayed it would hold as she struggled to catch her breath.

God!
This used to be easy!

As
the hail of bullets began to turn the column into kindling, Barbara
looked around franticly for somewhere, anywhere she could go.

Geeze!
Of all the bad guys, I never thought the Penguin would be the one to
off me. How embarrassing.

Click.
Click. Click. Click. Click.

"Waugh!"
Penguin wailed in exasperation.

Barbara
pounced on top of the banquet table, Batarang in hand. A flip of the
wrist and the projectile shot towards her foe.

Only
to be knocked aside as Cobblepot opened his umbrella into a
makeshift, but effective shield.

"I'm
afraid your dexterity is no match for my cunning, my pugnacious
beauty." The umbrella began to split into sections and spin,
lifting the villain off the floor. "And now, I fear, I must bid
you adieu!"

"Oh
no you don't, Penguin!" She reached for her utility belt for
another Batarang.

Nothing.
She was out.

"Damn
it!" She spat, Get
it together, Babs!

Penguin's
laughter echoed around her as the ceiling's acoustics surrounded his
ascending form.

Her
eyes darted in all directions. Plates, cups, bowls, utensils,
centerpieces, food---nothing she could use.

Hold
on a sec. That might work.

Oswald
Cobblepot was almost to the skylight and freedom when a circular
serving platter doing its best imitation of a discus sliced perfectly
between the handle and blades of his umbrella copter. The cane was
no match for the projectile and the corpulent villain found himself
plummeting towards certain death at the tender mercies of his
ravenous pets.

"WAAAAUGH!!!"

Crap!

Barbara
dove off the table and lunged for the rim of the exhibit.

This
is going to hurt.

She
twisted in mid-air, hooked her legs between the topmost and middle
bars of the railing, and reached out for the Penguin's falling form.
She managed to snag Cobblepot's waist coat, which promptly tore in
half. But it bought her enough time to grab the belt underneath with
her other hand.

Then
the full force of the Penguin's weight nearly wrenched her from the
bars. Her legs screamed, but that sensation was quickly muted by the
searing agony of a dislocated shoulder.

Barbara
gasped in pain. Somehow in the intervening second she managed to get
her other hand on the belt before her left arm gave way completely,
hanging in the air like so much dead weight.

"Ouch,"
she whispered softly, but her voice was drowned out by the Penguin's
incessant shouting.

"Get
me out of here, you insufferable malcontent! How dare you sully my
personage with your pedestrian machinations! You philistine! You
imbecile! You---you chiropteran cretin! You low class,
malicious---""

"For
the love of God, shut the hell up, Oswald! Or so help me, I'll feed
you to those bastards!"

Stunned
silence met her, broken only by the eager splashing of the marine
mammals not all that far below.

She
took a few deep breaths, trying to ignore the throbbing of her arm.
How
am I going to get out of this mess?

"Well,
there's no need for such vulgarity, my dear," the Penguin
finally muttered.

---

If
he hadn't added several eyestalks to his head he would have missed
it.

One
of the monitors had picked up some motion on a rooftop and had zoomed
in.

J'onn
absorbed the extra eyes as he resumed his customary human-like
appearance and hit a button to enlarge the screen.

Sure
enough, two large men dressed in matching court jester outfits were
carefully maneuvering a large gift wrapped box onto a rooftop.

He
thumbed a few keys and the satellite imagery software isolated their
faces and translated them into a three dimensional composite. Then
he deftly sent the file to the League's face recognition program.
Ten seconds later the results came back. The two men were known
associates of the Joker.

"Finally,
a lead," J'onn murmured absently.

He
activated his com-link, "Martian Manhunter to Batman.
Acknowledge."

The
reply was crisp and almost immediate, "This had better be
important, Manhunter."

"We---uh,
that is to say, Diana," he lied, "has spotted known
henchman of the Joker planting a package of some kind on the top of a
building. Southwest corner of Kane and Dixon."

"On
my way."

"Do
you require assistance? We share your concern about Robin."

"Stay
out of it. Batman out."

Somethings
never change. Still . . .

He
began another scan, this time looking for something very different.

---

The
monocle dangled from the torn waist coat, swinging back and forth
like a pendulum. Until a particularly large seal leapt up to snatch
it between its sharp teeth and bite through its golden chain.

"This
is getting to be a bit too adventuresome for my taste," the
Penguin remarked as the carnivore disappeared back beneath the waves
with a tremendous splash, "I give you leave to commence
ascending, my dear."

"Easier
said than done, Oswald," she growled through gritted teeth,
vainly trying to get her damaged arm functioning, "What are you
up to now? Two fifty? Two seventy-five?"

She
fumbled for her grapple, but her spent fingers wouldn't respond to
her commands.

Barbara
girded herself to plunge after him even with only one arm working.
She would wait for the splash and then drop down on the first seal to
attack, hoping to spook the others and buy them some time. After
that, she had no idea.

Only
there was no splash. Penguin hung there, less than a yard above the
surface while the nearest leopard seal was plucked out of the water
and hurdled clear to the other side of the massive tank.

"May
I be of assistance, Batgirl?" Martian Manhunter inquired as his
faded into view.

---

Five
minutes later, the Penguin was bound to a support column and Batgirl
was flexing her fingers experimentally.

"Wow,
that didn't hurt at all, J'onn. Totally different than the last time
I had to pop it back in place."

"That
is because I took the liberty of mentally suppressing your pain
receptors. It will gradually wear off. I fear you will be needing
that arm tonight. There will be plenty of time for pain tomorrow."

Batgirl
arched an eyebrow, "You've got a lead? How?"

J'onn
shook his head, "The same way I found you; Watchtower satellite
cameras. But there will be time for details later. Batman is
already on his way to the site, and I believe it would be best if you
were there as well."

"Okay,
but there's no way I'll get there in time unless it happens to be
next door."

J'onn
smiled.

"That
won't be an issue," He put a hand to his ear, "Watchtower,
emergency override. Lock on my position and teleport Batgirl to the
preprogramed coordinates."

The
Martian gestured toward the Penguin, "I will wait for the
authorities. Good luck."

"Wait!
What did you---" Batgirl's voice cut off abruptly as she
disappeared.

J'onn
looked around at ruined night club and then hovered out over the
exhibit. The variety of wildlife on Earth fascinated him.

"My
good man," Penguin said, interrupting his study of the aquatic
mammals, "Someone of your obvious talents could be of
significant aid to my organization."

J'onn
turned to look at the secured felon.

"I
could make you a very
wealthy . . . whatever it is you are."

J'onn's
eyes flashed.

A
second later twin holes melted clear through the column less than an
inch above Penguin's head.

He
was silent for a moment, and then spoke in hushed tones.

"I'll
take that as a no."

---

The
man in the fedora was nothing if not a patient man.

Living
in a world drowning in conspiracies required such patience.

The
patience of a saint, actually.

One
couldn't expect the Free Masons, Templars, and Illuminati to divulge
their secrets overnight. The Council on Foreign Relations, Area 51,
and U.S. shadow government were not going to be brought into the
light over the space of a few weeks. The true designs of the
Vatican, Atlantis, and Easter Island wouldn't be deciphered in mere
months.

And
Richard Grayson was not going to be found within a single year.

No,
Mr. Grayson had consumed almost 15 months of his precious time.

He
worried about that sometimes. Wondered what he might have overlooked
during his pursuit of the former partner of the Batman. Would he
have been able to track down Elvis's new life in Witness Protection?
Could he have discovered the clandestine government directives for
9/11 in the secret vaults of the Library of Congress? Should he have
spent that time tracking down the party adding the nanites to Girl
Scout cookies?

That
last one particularly gnawed at him. He couldn't figure out the
purpose behind such machinations.

And
he loved the Thin Mints.

He
knew most of the League thought he was odd. Some considered him to
be crazy.

But
he had been right about Cadmus. And that had bought him credibility.

At
least for the time being.

The
man sighed as he moved from the small living room of the rather dingy
apartment to the kitchen. He began to systemically search the
cupboards. Grayson's sudden disappearance had been somewhat out of
character. Perhaps he'd been eating Girl Scout cookies.

Ten
minutes later, he was convinced that wasn't the case. No cookies
of any kind, in fact.

He
carefully used a single finger to slightly part the curtain and
looked down at the street from three floors up. The hustle and
bustle of the busy Singapore waterfront district below continued
unabated despite the fact it was 2:13 in the morning.

He
shrugged and moved to the fridge.

Yes,
he had let far too many balls drop over far too much time.

But
what choice did he have, really?

Helena
had asked him to find Grayson.

And
that was all the motivation he needed these days.

He
began to rummage through the fridge, cataloging its contents for
clues into his quarry's current state of mind.

"See
anything you like?" a voice called out from behind.

He
frowned. Fortunately, the mask covered his features. It appeared
Grayson had lost none of his stealth.

Still,
he was a professional and had managed to avoid any kind of
involuntary reaction.

He
calmly stood up, closed the door, and turned to face his target.

"Good
evening, Nightwing."

Now
it was the dark-haired, well-built man in the doorway's turn to
frown. He took in his quarry's appearance. No costume, no mask.
Unshaven. Hair in need of a good trim but not long enough to get in
his eyes. Wearing a leather jacket over a black T-shirt, gloves,
jeans, and boots. The type of clothing that wouldn't limit his
movements, while still providing a modicum of protection. Judging by
the stains and tears, as well as the Escrima sticks currently being
brandished, he was still in the game, just with a lower profile.

"I
don't go by that name anymore."

The
man in the fedora shrugged, "It's who you were, and that's all
that really matters in the end."

"How
did you find me?"

"It
wasn't easy," he admitted, "But ultimately you just have to
ask the right people the right questions. And that's something of a
speciality of mine."

"Did
He
send you?"

"No.
He did not." That seemed to surprise Grayson, and so he
pressed his advantage, "I need you to come with me."

Grayson
tensed, "Not likely, Question."

"You
know me?"

"I
know who you are and what you do. A half-insane conspiracy theorist
with mediocre martial skills. In short, I'm not impressed."

He
paused. Judging by what he had determined of Grayson's diet during
his search and the physique he could readily observe now, fisticuffs
would probably prove counterproductive. But this man had caused
Helena much pain and suffering in the not too distant past. She had
told him little, but he was very adept at reading between the lines.
This man had hurt her. Badly.

It
didn't matter that he had eventually reaped the rewards of that
relationship's demise. He felt compelled to defend his lady's honor.

And
he'd be damned if he wasn't going to do everything in his power to
fulfill Helena's request.

He
assumed a combat stance.

"I'm
afraid I must insist."

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